Fade Into You
by MutantSquirrel
Summary: Amberverse Lincoln and Olivia.    There is something about Lincoln, some affinity to Olivia that she can't shake, like he's the jigsaw piece that tumbled out of the box and under the couch, the thing she had forgotten was missing.


**FADE INTO YOU**

Amber verse Lincoln and Olivia.  
>Spoilers for episodes 401 to 407 with implied spoilers for 408<br>(I made inferences from the preview, I can't wait for January it looks great!).  
>I don't own fringe!<p>

Couple soundtrack

Fade Into You – Mazzy Star

Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap

I Don't Mind – Phantom Planet

**NOTE:**

I've revised this chapter; I have a terrible habit of posting stories before I'm done with them! It's probably because I am a lousy editor so I try to get away with not doing it but I can't resist going back and prodding at things. Hope you still enjoy and thanks to everybody who said they liked the original!

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><p>The first time Lincoln realizes Olivia Dunham is beautiful he has just almost died. The medics take him to the hospital for X-rays and CAT scans and half a dozen blood tests - because who the hell knows what the after effects of being attacked by a psychic fungus will be? The sun has set when the doctors are finished and they can't find a single thing wrong with him. They still tell him he shouldn't drive for the next 48 hours. To add insult to injury (or lack thereof) Broyles calls to say Lincoln is on mandatory leave for the rest of the week.<p>

The only bright spot in the entire thing is Olivia. Lincoln is surprised to see her familiar blonde head as she pushes through the plate glass doors, meeting him in the lobby where he is signing the last of his release forms. He half expected Astrid or some other junior agent to end up with the menial task of being his taxi service and he feels oddly touched that she came herself.

"Hey," Her wry smile speaks volumes. _I'm glad you're alive. _  
>"Hey," Lincoln can't help but smile back. <em>Me too.<em>

He doesn't pick up that something is off with her until he's in her passenger seat and they are speeding down the freeway. It's subtle; her back is a little too tense, her hands gripping the steering wheel a fraction too hard.

"Is something wrong Olivia?" _Besides everything else that happened today. _Her eyes flick over him at the question and then skitter away. Instead she stares fixedly at the stretch of road before her and bites her lip, some internal debate waring in her head.

Finally Olivia sighs. "Nothing a beer won't fix." This sounds a bit like bull shit to Lincoln but it isn't his place to pry. It's probably the euphoria from still being alive, or maybe the warmth in his chest that she cared enough to come for him herself but he can't resist teasing her a little.

"So does that mean you're buying?" He asks, cheeky smile curling the corners of his lips. Alcohol does not sound like a bad idea right about now. Olivia rolls her eyes at him but she seems to relax too, returning his smile with one of her own.

"Only if I get to choose the place."

The place turns out to be The Irish Heather, an old-fashion paddy bar filled with dark polished wood and plush booth seats. Lincoln feels distinctly underdressed in his polo shirt and khaki pants as he looks around at the suit wearing clientele but Olivia seems unfazed in her own parker and jeans. When he recognizes some of the other customer's faces he realizes this must be the local law enforcement haunt, the place where FBI Agents come to unwind at the end of the day.

Olivia and the owner greet each other by name and she orders two beers without halting her fluid movement through the after work crowd, finally choosing a secluded seat toward the back.

He slides in opposite her as she dumps her jacket onto her chair and unpicks her braid with dexterous fingers, rubbing at tired temples and rolling the crick from her neck. When the drinks come the barman, Steve, looks Lincoln over with curiosity that is a little too intense to be polite. Lincoln wonders if the stare is because of his outfit or, he thinks rather suspiciously, because someone drinking with Olivia is a bit of a rarity.

It's the first time he has seen her looking truly relaxed, the first time he has seen her off duty and he thinks, as he swallows a mouthful of bitter beer, that she looks like a completely different person. He tries to work out what the difference is and he realizes he's gotten used to seeing Olivia with her hair pulled back severely, or tucked behind her ears but now it's loose, a mane of gold waves that fall past her shoulders, framing her face.

Olivia takes a sip of her own beer, eyes the color of her namesake scanning the crowd and then coming to rest on him.

"So," She smiles shyly, awkwardly at a loss for words and idle chit chat. Lincoln knows that tongue tied feeling well, especially with her. Robert had always made it easy, filling in the silences for him; half the time it was impossible to shut him up.

"So," They both say in unison, overlapping one another other. Olivia laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners and it's like a light bulb has gone on in his head. She's beautiful, utterly breathtakingly fucking beautiful and he is an imbecile. The barman had been staring because he was trying to work out how the hell Lincoln had gotten lucky enough to sit across from her. Now he's kind of wondering the same question himself.

Lincoln's contemplation of this new knowledge is interrupted when Olivia asks what he's going to do with his week off. He has no idea. That fact fazes him more than he likes to admit and she seems to realize it without him having to voice it. Empty hours are hours that fill up with memories and ghosts. Her hand touches his for a brief second and is gone.

She suggests places in the city to visit, playing tour guide, teasing out his interests and making recommendations for good places to eat and listen to music. Olivia is comparatively slippery to pin down, her cards held so close to her chest he feels like everything he knows about her he's worked out by inference.

Somewhere after the second beer she goes to the restroom. Lincoln stares at her empty seat, tipsier than he should be - thanks to being down a pint of blood - and thinks back to the first day he met her, what a hard ass she had seemed at first. He considers the partner she had told him about, the soft emotion in her voice as she talked about him and Lincoln realizes he is a little jealous of a dead man.

He also realizes he can't fathom how the hell she has done this crazy job on her own for three years without going stark raving mad.

When Olivia comes back her cheeks are flushed from suppressed laughter, the palm of her hand covering her mouth. She had stumbled into a couple's tryst in the toilets, Andrew and Lindsay from the Financial Fraud department. He knows the two just well enough to appreciate the gossip and Olivia's description of their antics when she discovered them has him laughing out loud (even if it make the tips of his ears flame with embarrassment as well). They both have to hold back more laughter when the couple try to furtively leave and it turns out half the bar knows exactly what they've been up to.

Lincoln slowly forgets he's just had one of the strangest fucking days of his life.

He doesn't remember again until three or four beers later when they are both out in the parking lot, breath frosting in front of them in the cold night air. Olivia has gone quiet again, introspective. He can't quite work out how to bring it up so he just dives straight in.

"I know it's probably none of my business, but this thing that's bugging you, would it help to talk about it?" His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he is staring at her pensively, ready for her to rebuff him again.

Olvia studies him for a moment, considering.  
>"Can you keep a secret?" She asks. Lincoln nods feeling the weight of her solemn gaze. Maybe once it wouldn't have been true, but now <em>who would he tell?<em>

"After we finished today I went back to the lab and found Walter trying to give himself a homemade lobotomy. He says he's been seeing a man's face and thought he was going mad… again." She half laughs then; a horrible sound. "Turns out I've been seeing the same guy in my dreams."

Lincoln sucks in a chilly breath through his teeth as he takes in the enormity of what she's just told him. If Broyles or any of the higher ups ever found out Walter would be sent back to the mental ward and Olivia probably hauled off after him. The thought crosses his mind for a millisecond that maybe she _is_crazy but he rejects it as the memory of her laughing into her palm flashes in his mind.

She drives him to his hotel in silence, telling him to sleep well as she drops him off at the curb.

He rolls into bed utterly exhausted and stares at the ceiling for eight hours without nodding off once.

The next time he sees Olivia the man in her head is flesh instead of hallucination. Lincoln is flexible enough in his mindset to admit that the man is attractive, even to him, and that it is also entirely possible that he really is Professor Bishop's son from a different reality.

It takes Lincoln a while to work out why he likes Peter. It's because he's a cocky sarcastic bastard. It makes his chest ache when he realizes who that reminds him of.

There is never a conscious shift in Olivia's mind as the days slip by, as she relearns what having another person to watch her back feels like. She still thinks office romances are bound to be complicated and even if Astrid means well setting up two lonely people together sounds more depressing than romantic in Olivia's view.

Lincoln still isn't her type, whatever her type was before she stopped trying. Maybe she's always believed in the whole "opposites attract" thing and if anything Lincoln is scarily similar to her, so similar sometimes she feels like he's an extension of herself rather than a separate entity.

Peter, on the other hand, is a curiosity; a glimpse into a road not taken or rather a road that was never there. His obvious connection to her disturbs her at first but dissipates when she realizes that the link is his alone, that whatever life they shared belonged to someone else.

It still makes her re-evaluate every relationship she has ever had and some she hasn't. They may only know about one other universe but the implication that there are more - one for every choice in the day - is impossible to ignore.

She can't help but question how different her life might be now if she'd made other choices, if she'd dared to love John Scott, instead of keeping her feelings to herself. She remembers the single drunken kiss she shared with him at a New Years party and wonders what it would have been like to have more.

Then there is the failed relationship with Lukas that almost had her swearing off men altogether and she ponders what would have happened if things had gone a different way, if she'd be married to him with seven kids now or eyeing off Astrid instead of Lincoln.

In the end it all boils down to vulnerability, something Olivia has never been good at. She remembers Nina's warnings that love and work where not a good combination and considering that John is now dead and Lukas far away she doesn't doubt that her adoptive guardian is probably right.

But there is something about Lincoln, some affinity to him that she can't shake, like he's the jigsaw piece that tumbled out of the box and under the couch, the thing she had forgotten was missing. When she walks past the diner he is sitting in at three am it isn't chance that she glances in the window and notices him. It's magnetism.

A few weeks later, when the shit has hit the fan in her life once again, Lincoln is in her apartment, helping her find the bugs Nina has planted to spy on her. As he finishes dismantling the last camera she hands him a glass of the scotch she keeps above her fridge for screwed up days like this one.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks without a trace of humor. The mix of raw emotion in his gaze is almost enough to make her break down and cry.

"No." She says and kicks back her own drink in one.

"Liv," He says taking a step toward her. She doesn't question his right to call her that, he's earned that familiarity, now that he knows how much of a freak-show she is and hasn't run screaming. It's still unnerving how comforting his touch is when he cups her cheek. Her eyes are wet then and she blinks the tears back, taking a shuddering breath as she pulls away from him.

Nothing has changed; she still can't be with him even as the tenderness in his eyes haunts her. Maybe it all comes down to the night she misses him at the diner. When she apologized the next day Lincoln had just smiled and shook his head, commenting that at least one of them was getting some sleep. Still she had used it as a sign they weren't meant to be; convinced herself there was no time for love in a world that is ending.

Lincoln watches her change before him, watches her straighten her spine and smooth her hair as she morphs back into the unflappable Olivia that doesn't flinch at monsters or demons, even her own.

"You know what we need?" Her lopsided smile is completely convincing despite the slight redness to her eyes. "Ice-cream."

She tells him about her niece Ella and her sister Rachel and Greg the dillhole brother in law, about the things she got up to in college and in the marines. She tells stories about Charlie, Walter's crazy experiments and even a few about John Scott. He listens as she unearths every good memory she's ever had and he adds his own to the mix; fragments of memories he had of his own brother and sister, some of the crazy nannies he had growing up, girls he dated in high school, a lot of Robert.

She laughs with him and he realizes nothing hurts as much as he thought it did anymore.

As Lincoln stares at his ceiling that night he thinks of Olivia, the girl who eats choc peppermint ice-cream from the tub, perched on her kitchen bench and swinging her feet like a six year old. Then Olivia the woman, terrified but defiant, clutching his hand as some quasi-chemical switch is thrown in her brain and she crosses universes with her mind, dragging him after her.

He doesn't know whether to be disgusted with Nina Sharp or to thank her. Scarily he thinks it might be the later.

The first time Lincoln realises that he loves Olivia Dunham she has crossed universes to bring him home.

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><p>Walter kicks them out of the lab at 11pm for keeping him awake, saying something curmudgeonly about their Delta waves interfering with his Theta's; It's just another day at Fringe Division. Olivia rubs tiredly at her eyes, adrenaline the only thing propelling her through the last 36 hours.<p>

"You should go home and sleep, I'll finish up." She says closing the manila folder in front of her. Lincoln looks and feels half wrecked even as he shakes his head.  
>"If you're still working, I'm still working." He doesn't bother pointing out that he would have as much chance of getting to sleep as they have of finding this shapeshifter. Lincoln thinks Olivia might only be pushing this case still because she knows how much they get to him. But even he knows that this guy has probably fallen off the grid, just neither of them want to admit it yet.<p>

They discuss their change of venue and end up on Lincoln's hotel room because it has a mini bar, room service and a shower which Olivia feels she sorely needs. Lincoln thinks she also might be avoiding her apartment since Nina's betrayal.

When Olivia steps out of his bathroom at 11:30 her hair is a damp tangle of curls around her shoulders and she is wearing a dark tank top and some loose pants, emergency clothes that she had in her car. Lincoln struggles to not just stare at her hungrily.

There are other flaws in the logic of their plan. Like the fact that the only true piece of furniture in his suite is the bed. Olivia doesn't comment, just picks up the files she had been reading and sprawls on her stomach to one side of the queen, Lincoln on his back to the other.

It works for about an hour, until her eyes need to take a break from the endless pile of grainy black and white surveillance photos in her hands. His room is little more than four white walls so she looks at Lincoln instead.

She takes in his profile, unmarred today by glasses; the slight wrinkle in his forehead as he frowns in concentration, still focused on the images before him. He hasn't had time to shave in the last few days and the stubble on his jaw makes him look a little more rugged and less boyishly innocent. She thinks -her mind wandering in her weariness- that it is good a symbol as any for all the ways he has changed since she met him. She wonders if she looks different too.

Lincoln looks up at her finally, eyes questioning and Olivia loses her mind. She leans forward and presses her mouth against his.

To his credit he barely pauses before he's kissing her back, pulling her closer. She can feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin as his hands slip up her shirt, splay across her spine and pull her tighter to him. When they finally break apart they are both breathing hard, the only sign that the kiss was unexpected for Lincoln is the wideness of his eyes, the blue in them seeming darker than usual.

He doesn't say anything, just watches her; waits for her to decide what happens next. Olivia bites her lip as she pops the first button at his collar and Lincoln exhales sharply as he realizes exactly what she wants, exactly how far they are about to go.

"Olivia..."  
>She cuts him off with another kiss, the scorching heat of her mouth making him moan softly as she slowly unbuttons him. All Lincoln can do is fist his hands in her hair as that kiss deepens, before she pulls his shirt free of his pants and spreads her palms against the smooth muscles of his chest.<p>

The last thing Olivia thinks before her mind slips away is the craziest part is that she waited so long.

Somehow Lincoln ends up above her, clothing and paperwork discarded to the floor. She feels boneless with need as she watches him pull a condom from the wallet that sits on the night stand and sheaths himself in it, rolling it on slowly with that same focused concentration he does everything with. Then he's over her, his hand hooking her leg around his hips, his wide blue eyes locked with hers.

The world seems to still for a breathless moment as he waits, waits for her to tell him to stop, for cooler heads to prevail. All she can manage is a broken "Lincoln please." The sound of it makes his stomach tighten, makes him surge forward into her. Lincoln's eyes flutter closed for a second as he fills her for the first time and he pauses, regaining his control, letting her adjust as she lets out a ragged moan and grips the covers beneath her with clenched fingers. He captures her mouth again as he begins to rock against her, filling her with a slow measured rhythm that makes Olivia's thighs clench around his hips, makes her surge up to meet him half way as the sweet pressure mounts.

Her first orgasm is so intense she's still trembling a full minute afterward.

The second comes with his mouth pressed flush between her thighs, his hands exploring upward, focusing her body into a tight arch.

The third when he finally loses himself in her, his cry mingling with hers as they are both spent. Lincoln doesn't tell Olivia he loves her as he strokes the hair back from her face, he doesn't have to.

The last thing they see before they fall asleep is each other.

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><p>So what do you guys think? Am I the only person who loves this ship?<p>

Just a brief note in case I confused anybody:

In my version of this timeline Olivia and John Scott are never together. She cares for him deeply but keeps thing professional between them. My rationale for this decision is partly to do with Olivia's little speech against dating Lincoln at the beginning of episode 402, she is obviously a more closed of person that the original Olivia because she remember the cortexiphan trials and because she went through with shooting her step father. I also think because Nina raised Olivia she would have advised against sleeping with colleagues.

Hope that helps!


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